Pumpkin Eater. Jeffrey Round

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Number Three was, “Never go down to the basement alone.”

      As Ked passed the popcorn to Trevor, a sudden onscreen apparition made him jump, sending miniature white bombs flying through the air.

      “Arggh!” he cried. “Ralph, treats!”

      The dog leapt up instantly.

      Dan glanced over at Trevor. “I’m particularly fond of Rule Number Four: If someone says your child is possessed by the devil and things start flying through the air, call in a priest immediately.”

      Ked’s eyes widened into an approximation of dem-

       onic possession. “Aaarggghhh!” he cried, his expression more ludicrous than scary.

      Ellen Burstyn had just had her second fit of over-acting as the possessed girl’s mother when Ked snorted in derision. The suggestion by a credulous doctor that Linda Blair’s feats of levitation might be attributable to puberty and a brain lesion brought further scorn from Ked.

      “Is that supposed to be scary?” he asked when a lugubrious face appeared onscreen and faded out again.

      The game continued. Trevor held up a finger. “I know! Rule Number Five: Never run from monsters in high heels.”

      Dan looked over. “I’ve never seen a monster in high heels before.”

      “Your father’s a funny guy,” Trevor said, offering the popcorn bowl to Ked. “Lucky you’re not warped too.”

      “I know!” Ked replied.

      They watched the screen in silence for a while.

      “Have you ever noticed how all these horror movies happen in quiet places like Amityville or Georgetown?” Dan asked.

      “Which proves indisputably that the source of all evil is suburban USA,” Trevor added.

      “Hey, I know,” Ked said. “Rule Number Six: If you’re stuck in a small town in Maine or Texas and everyone has a chainsaw then just kill yourself and get it over with.”

      “Good one,” Trevor agreed.

      The movie theme unfolded eerily, its arpeggiated tendrils of sound and distinctive tone of the bells made demonic by the film. Those repetitive notes had been the sound of evil throughout Dan’s teenage years.

      “Rule Number Seven,” he said, “always listen to the soundtrack to find out when the next attack is likely to occur.”

      The popcorn bowl changed hands again. Onscreen, Max von Sydow wiped green vomit from his glasses and held a crucifix over the inert form of the possessed girl, Regan.

      Ked giggled. “Rule Number Eight: Never check to see if the monster is dead after you think you’ve killed it.”

      “Oh, yeah!” Dan and Trevor chimed in together.

      By the time the credits rolled, Dan and Trevor agreed the film had been creepy, if not downright terrifying. Two more rules were posited to sum up the genre: Rule Number Nine, the villain is never who you think it is, and Rule Ten, the hero can never go home again.

      “It’s still pretty scary after all these years,” Trevor said.

      “It had its moments,” Dan agreed. “How about you, maestro?” he said, turning to his son. “Happy with your choice?”

      Ked rolled his eyes. “Guys, it was lame. Didn’t you see that stupid make-up and overdone fake vomit?

       It looked like green porridge. It was totally goofy,”

       he pronounced, the emperor turning thumbs down on the defeated gladiator. “I can’t believe I even wanted to watch this crap.”

      “Better luck next time,” Dan told his son.

      Ked went off, trailed by the steadfast Ralph. “’Night, guys.”

      “’Night,” they replied.

      Dan looked over at Trevor and shrugged. “So what do we know about horror flicks?”

      “That son of yours is a little too sophisticated for his own good. When I was his age, it scared the crap out of me,” Trevor said.

      They’d just undressed and were settling in upstairs when Dan’s cell buzzed. He reached for it. The screen showed a pay phone number. Not many of those left any more, he thought.

      Trevor glanced over at him. “Better answer it. You know you won’t sleep until you do.”

      Dan sighed.

      “Sharp.” He listened for a while in silence then said, “Didn’t that burn down a couple years ago?”

      Trevor rolled over to watch him.

      “What’s he hiding from?” Then, after a pause, “Maybe, but I wondered what you could tell me.”

      The call ended abruptly.

      “Damn.”

      Trevor looked over at Dan.

      “Duty calls,” Dan said, sitting up.

      Trevor glanced at the bedside clock. “It’s past midnight.”

      “I know, sorry. Don’t wait up.”

      “I won’t.” Trevor pulled the covers up to his chin. “Have fun. Don’t forget your crucifix.”

      It would have been good advice, if he’d followed it.

      A voice crackled out of a walkie-talkie somewhere deep inside the slaughterhouse.

      “Shit! Did you see this?”

      “See what?” answered a second voice. Then “Holy crap! We gotta let the chief know right away.”

      Dan’s imagination was running riot. What could be worse than a body strung up on a meat hook? Were there others he hadn’t seen? He was alert as the officer returned and headed for the cruiser.

      Bryson mumbled a few words into his cell, then, “Yeah, he’s on a meat hook. Just like the guy said.” He glanced at Dan. “But it gets weirder. Guy’s missing an ear. It’s sliced clean off.” There was a pause. “Left, I think. Hang on.” He picked up the walkie-talkie. “Harvey. Which ear?”

      “The left one,” came the reply.

      “Yeah, left,” Dan heard the first officer say.

      This was followed by silence. Dan could hear the man’s breathing quicken. “Yes, sir.” His body stiffened. “Yes, sir. I understand fully.”

      Dan waited, curious, while the officer concluded his call.

      The cop turned his grim face to Dan. “Anything else you can tell us?”

      “Not that I СКАЧАТЬ